


to steal a princess

by calarinanis



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Mob, Angst with a Happy Ending, Eventual Jon Snow/Sansa Stark, F/M, Jon Snow and Sansa Stark Are Not Related, Kidnapping, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 18:00:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29920698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calarinanis/pseuds/calarinanis
Summary: Princess Sansa Stark gets embroiled in a mob war when she’s kidnapped by Lord Petyr Baelish who wants to take revenge upon her parents. Enter Jon Snow, a rival gang leader who decides that saving Sansa could be his ticket out of the mob business except for the fact that she has no interest in being saved by a brooding gangster when she knows that handsome Prince Joffrey will rescue her.Will Sansa get to have her happy ever after with Prince Joffrey?
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Comments: 12
Kudos: 25
Collections: /r/FanFiction Trope Bingo Events





	to steal a princess

Marriage came for everyone.

And now it was the turn of Sansa Stark, the Northern Princess whose marriage would cement the long-standing alliance between Winterfell and Westeros. She had been betrothed to Prince Joffrey since she had been nothing more than a babe in arms as part of their fathers’ wishes to see their kingdoms united at last. It was a familiar thought, gentle and comforting, that she would be the Queen of Westeros to Joffrey’s King. She had known it her whole life as sure as she knew that the sky was blue and she knew Joffrey. They had met several times over the course of their lives and he had been courteous and chivalrous every time. Sansa had nothing to fear. Though she had not met him in three years, she knew her faith would be rewarded when she came face to face with him after such a prolonged absence. She often imagined how he would look and hoped he would be pleased with her appearance. He would be the golden lion of Westeros, tall and dashing and handsome. His hair was blonde and his eyes were blue, that much she remembered, but the finer details seemed fuzzy like a story from long ago. Flutters rose within her heart. Today was the day that she would set out on her journey to Westeros. To her future. To Joffrey. She would be accompanied by the Lady Brienne Tarth, the only female knight in both Winterian and Westerosi history.

“Sansa.” She heard her mother’s voice call out to her. “You must make haste if you are to reach before nightfall.”

Smoothing down her rich pale pink gown, she felt thrill ripple through her body. She had never travelled alone, without her family, and it seemed as if she were embarking on some great adventure from the tales of Old Nan. She slipped on her silver lacquered silk shoes and began to make her way down to say her farewells to her family. They would travel light, they had decided, to avoid the possibility of encountering bandits or assassins and then her family would arrive after her with the remainder of her luggage. It couldn’t be helped given that her father had an important meeting with the Wildlings over some petty border dispute and so couldn’t accompany her.Robb too needed to go with him so that he would learn the rulings of a kingdom and so that left only her mother who could be a possible companion. Except for the fact that her mother was needed in Winterfell to rule in her father’s absence and to care for the siblings Sansa was leaving behind. As such they had settled on her going with the Lady Brienne, her mother’s dearest friend.

“Sansa, are you ready?” She heard her mother call out to her. 

She did not answer, her mind lost in reverie. Westeros awaited her and she was ready to take her place. Nothing could impede this feeling of pure joy.

\---

Cradling his tumbler brimming with whiskey, Jon heard a voice behind him. He ignored it. He took a swig and felt the cold glass brush against his lips. The nutty, creamy taste sat on his tongue as it warmed his throat on its way down.A hand clapped him on the shoulder. He refused to look round; his eyes focused on the bottles of booze lined up in front of him and the pretty maid whose low-cut red dress left little to the imagination.

“Drinking alone, Jon?”

A fierce expression settled on his face. “And what if I am? What’s it to you?” He turned around. The pale colour of his whiskey gleamed amongst the darkness of the dingy tavern that he had chosen for a drink in peace.

“If you are, I’ll have one and all,” said Dolorous Edd. He was the only man who dared to address The Bastard by his given name. “Sam’s carping is doing my head in.”

A slip of a smile appeared on Jon’s face. “I keep telling him that no-one is interested in his bloody books but he keeps on about them. You’d think he would be more interested in improving his aim because he’s a piss poor shot.”

“He reckons the books will protect him,” Edd said. “I don’t know how he thinks a hefty wedge of books is going to save him from being shot in the head.”

A familiar silence crept between them. Jon threw back his whiskey, the burn of alcohol stinging the back of his throat. Edd and Sam were the only ones he could trust nowadays, the only ones he knew would have his back. But since Pyp had died, they had grown apart. He knew Edd had only come to make sure that he didn’t drink himself into a drunken stupor again and probably only because of Sam’s complaining. But, a small voice told him to be grateful. It was a very small voice, mind, but enough to make him fill the silence.

“How’s Lenna?” Jon asked.

Edd knocked back his drink. “A pain in the backside, that’s what she is. Always moaning about how Sam did this for Gilly and that for Gilly and how I don’t ever have any time for her. I would have more time if she didn’t use it to moan! I tell you, Jon, don’t ever get married. Your missus will bite your head off no matter what you do.”

“Cheers to that!” Jon said. “I’ve got no room for a woman in my life anyway, not unless she’s down on her knees.”

Edd let out a half chuckle as they clinked their glasses together, the sound echoing through the deserted bar.Since joining the Targaryen Mob as a low-level runner, Jon knew he would never marry. Once, he thought it might have been possible. That he and Ygritte could run away to live in a nothing country. The ones that weren’t worth the time visiting but at least it would have been home for them. Would have been. They were the key words in that sentence. Ygritte had gotten shot in a turf war, her beautiful red hair turned bloody red by the bullet that blasted into her forehead. Jon know then that was there was no escape. Once the Mob had hold of you, you were trapped for life. And he knew he didn’t want to bring a woman into that life. Ygritte had brought him in and sometimes he wondered if he hated her for it. If he hated her for telling him that it was an easy job and then they would be out. They never got out. Instead he had grafted and bargained his way into becoming Lord Snow, a trusted ally of the Targaryens with his own gang of misfits: The Bastard Boys.

—

Sat atop a snowy white horse, Sansa brushed away a falling tear as she glimpsed her home growing ever further away from her. Though she knew that her future lay with King Joffrey, it was hard to bid goodbye to the only home she had ever known. She had bid goodbye to her kind-hearted, gentle father, her beautiful, joyous lady mother and her many siblings. To proud Robb whose eyes held a hint of moisture, to boisterous Arya who hugged her with a new warmth, to sweet Bran who looked mournful at their parting and to little baby Rickon who gurgled in her arms. A parting that spoke of sorrow. Though not for long, she reassured herself. They would be joining in her in a week if her father’s meeting went well.

“Let us stop for a moment.” She heard Brienne’s voice ahead of her and the soft steps towards her.

Dismounting, she felt the acid drip of tears line her cheeks.

“Take this, my lady,” said Lady Brienne as she proffered an old but clean handkerchief.

Sansa sniffled. “Thank you, my lady Brienne. It is silly and so very childish of me, I know-”

“Not childish in the slightest, Princess Sansa,” Brienne interrupted. “Forgive the interruption but it is natural to miss those you love no matter how much you age. I still think with great fondness of my father though it has been near six years since his death.”

“Truly, I do not know what has come over me. This morning I felt as if I were a bird set free to soar the skies and now I wish I was at home,” said Sansa.

A gentle look entered Brienne’s eyes. “Do not worry, Princess Sansa. I am sure your new home will be a welcoming one. The King is well known for generosity and the Prince for his chivalry, I am certain you will soon feel at home.”

Unspoken words of honour and protection and loyalty lay between them. Brienne was to be her personal guard and to stay with her in Westeros even after her marriage, a great sacrifice yet one for which Sansa felt a gratitude climb into her heart. She would not be alone. Her mother’s dearest friend would be beside her and she knew that Brienne would defend her to the last. But, Sansa prayed that there would be no need. That Prince Joffrey would prove as gallant as his reputation and that their marriage would be one of unimaginable happiness. How could it be otherwise? Their fathers were firm friends, their kingdoms allies and they themselves would be husband and wife. She hoped for a marriage like her parents, a marriage built on a bedrock of trust and love and friendship, but as her mother said that would come with time. For now, she would settle with a friendship that would in time grow deeper and deeper.

“Thank you, lady Brienne, for wise words that have lightened my soul,” said Sansa. “I am grateful-”

A stampede of hooves clattered against the hard brown earth.

“Stay behind me.” Brienne drew her gleaming silver sword, her eyes narrowed in the direction of the sound.

“Who do you think they are?” Sansa asked.

Fear bounded through her heart like a rabid mutt, tearing at the soft flesh with its mutilated teeth.

“They could be mere soldiers on patrol,” Brienne said hoping that was the truth.

“Or?” Sansa managed to squeeze out a question.

“Bandits, perhaps,” said Brienne. “However, it does not concern you either way as you will be safe. I made a vow to your lady mother and I intend to uphold it.”

—

“Lord Snow! Lord Snow!”

A messenger hurried in to Castle Snow, the derelict castle that Jon had claimed for his own. He was no Lord in truth, it was a claimed title, and one that he didn’t care for but Lady Targaryen had insisted that he take it if he wanted to be the leader of the Bastard Boys.It hadn’t been much of choice in the end. Choosing between dying, staying trapped where he was or starting his own Mob had been a no-brainer. Being the leader of the Bastard Boys at least gave him some freedom. He had little taste for the famed Targaryen cruelty and preferred to keep his gang to the lesser evils like gambling and prostitution.

“Lord Baelish has been sighted,” the messenger panted as he came face to face with Jon. “His whole gang are with him, they’re about a half a mile away.”

Anger flashed within Jon’s eyes. “He dares to step so close to our territory?” His voice was quiet but there was a spark of rage hidden in the icy depths of his tone.

“Aye, Lord Snow. He’s riding through on horseback proud as you like, as if it’s his land. Looks like it he’s come for a fight if you ask me. All trussed up in that black of his and his men have got their shiny new guns front and centre,” he said.

“We’ll we better get on our boots and see what he wants, I’ll have no fight on my lands not unless he wants good kicking from us.” Jon turned away. “Go and get yourself a hot meal,” he said turning back to look at the messenger. “You look like you need it after seeing that ugly bastard.” He walked off, his stride purposeful.

Gathering the gang was his first port of call. He would have to get Edd to put the word out amongst their lower levels and Sam to fetch the guns. If Lord Baelish thought he could stroll in and start a fight then Jon was more than happy to put him straight. He was a manipulative bastard using his words to start a war, drip feeding little whispers to each gang until there was no way to prove what was the truth. And, Jon hated him for another reason. Lord Baelish was reportedly the reason that his mother died when he was just a babe because she had been caught in the crossfire of rival warring gangs. He had never known his mother. Never known her warm embrace, her gentle eyes nor even her name. But he knew Lord Baelish had a hand in her death. And despite knowing nothing about his mother, that was enough to hate him.

There was no way he was letting Lord Baelish flee without a fight.

—

After several moments, the sound of hooves grew more frenzied. Men began to swarm into view.Aiming guns on horseback, they were clothed in black from head-to-toe. Sansa gasped. Brienne pulled out her own pistol, a tarnished silver thing, as the men began to encircle them. That’s when Sansa spotted it. A small patch of yellow on each man’s chest with a black mockingbird. These were Lord Baelish’s men. Panic began to batter its brutal hands against her chest. She had never met him yet foreboding filled her heart. The old stories of his obsession with her lady mother terrified her. He had attempted to force himself on her mother and would have kidnapped her if not for her father. Since then Lord Baelish had been unwelcome in Winterfell.

Seeing the men surrounding them, Sansa suddenly felt a sickness swim in her stomach. “This is no coincidence,” she whispered to Brienne. “They must have known I would be travelling to Westeros.”

“Hush.” Brienne did not look at her. She appeared to be looking for something but Sansa could see nothing.

A moment later, they were within touching distance. Their guns a mere inch and a half away from their faces as if they were vultures circling their prey. Her breath had stopped in her throat.

Brienne fired a warning shot. “Make your business known.” Her voice was cool and yet Sansa could hear the ferocity that burnt beneath the ice.

“It’s quite simple, Lady Brienne. I want the girl.”

Lord Baelish. He was here himself. To take his revenge upon her family as he had promised years before Sansa had even been born. Shivers flickered down her spine. Looking at his face, he seemed a slight man with a neat crop of black hair. He did not appear to be dangerous. A smile sat upon his face, harsh and unyielding, as he looked at Sansa. His gaze was like a snail trailing its cold slime across her body. She hugged her arms across her chest. 

“And what a beauty you are, my dear. Your mother was pretty yet you eclipse her in every way. I shall look forward to getting to know you better,” he said in a lilting tone that seemed at odds with the dark look in his eyes. “Come along with me without a fuss and I promise you will wield the power of a Queen.”

Sansa trembled.

“How dare you?” Brienne said as she met his eyes with steel in her own. Taking a step back, she stood side by side with Sansa.

Fear froze Sansa’s body like the first frost of Winterfell. They were trapped. Lord Baelish would slaughter Lady Brienne if she did not comply. Perhaps if she agreed then he would leave Brienne alone. Her father and Robb would come for her, she knew it. She needed Lady Brienne to escape otherwise it could be days before her family heard the truth and thought to rescue her. She felt a gentle prod grow more insistent in her side. Sansa rose her eyes to look at Brienne. Her lips read ‘Run’.

Gathering every ounce of her courage, Sansa moved forward. “I will go with you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! This is something a little different for me so I would love your thoughts :)


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